Fardorougha, The Miser eBook

were by the simplest vanity, at enacting the arduous
and awful character of a Squireen’s wife.
Their family consisted of a son and daughter; the
former, a young man of a very amiable disposition,
was, at the present period of our story, a student
in Maynooth College, and the latter, now in her nineteenth
year, a promising pupil in a certain seminary for
young ladies, conducted by that notorious Master of
Arts, Little Cupid. Oona, or Una, O’Brien,
was in truth a most fascinating and beautiful brunette;
tall in stature, light and agile in all her motions,
cheerful and sweet in temper, but with just as much
of that winning caprice, as was necessary to give
zest and piquancy to her whole character. Though
tall and slender, her person was by no means thin;
on the contrary, her limbs and figure were very gracefully
rounded, and gave promise of that agreeable fulness,
beneath or beyond which no perfect model of female
proportion can exist. If our readers could get
one glance at the hue of her rich cheek, or fall for
a moment under the power of her black mellow eye,
or witness the beauty of her white teeth, while her
face beamed with a profusion of dimples, or saw her
while in the act of shaking out her invincible locks,
ere she bound them up with her white and delicate
hands—­then, indeed, might they understand
why no war of the elements could prevent Connor O’Donovan
from risking life and limb sooner than disappoint
her in the promise of their first meeting.

Oh that first meeting of pure and youthful love!
With what a glory is it ever encircled in the memory
of the human heart! No matter how long or how
melancholy the lapse of time since its past existence
may be, still, still, is it remembered by our feelings
when the recollection of every tie but itself has
departed. The charm, however, that murmured its
many-toned music through the soul of Una O’Brien
was not, upon the evening in question, wholly free
from a shade of melancholy for which she could not
account; and this impression did not result from any
previous examination of her love for Connor O’Donovan,
though many such she had. She knew that in this
the utmost opposition from both her parents must be
expected; nor was it the consequence of a consciousness
on her part, that in promising him a clandestine meeting,
she had taken a step which could not be justified.
Of this, too, she had been aware before; but, until
the hour of appointment drew near, the heaviness which
pressed her down was such as caused her to admit that
the sensation, however painful and gloomy, was new
to her, and bore a character distinct from anything
that could proceed from the various lights in which
she had previously considered her attachment.
This was, moreover, heightened by the boding aspect
of the heavens and the dread repose of the evening,
so unlike anything she had ever witnessed before.
Notwithstanding all this, she was sustained by the
eager and impatient buoyancy of first affection; which,
when imagination pictured the handsome form of her
young and manly lover, predominated for the time over
every reflection and feeling that was opposed to itself.
Her mind, indeed, resembled a fair autumn landscape,
over which the cloud-shadows may be seen sweeping
for a moment, whilst again the sun comes out and turns
all into serenity and light.